


Pizza, Wine, and Scary Movies

by Harmonious_wordsmith



Category: Iain De Caestecker (Actor), Iain De Caestecker - Fandom, Iain De Caestecker RPF, Leopold Fitz - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonious_wordsmith/pseuds/Harmonious_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of a series of One-Shots I wrote for Valentine's Day</p><p>Also: Post-Epilogue for my Iain De Caestecker RPF </p><p>You manage to ruin the romantic evening you had planned for your husband while trying to juggle getting everything ready and watching your twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pizza, Wine, and Scary Movies

You had successfully ruined Valentine’s Day dinner. Your in-laws thankfully agreed to watch the twin terrors, but they weren’t available to take the kids until 6 this evening, so you had to set up your romantic night while running interference. Come 5:30 you managed to overcook the green beans when Brendan got his head stuck in the rocking chair, you over-reduced your sauce for the roast that you burned when Adelaide first decided she wanted to cut her hair, then got hung up on the chain link fence in the back garden, and you completely forgot to start on dessert.   
“Sweetheart? What’s that smell?” Iain calls to you from the entryway, you’ve just gotten the smoke detector to stop screeching after a stray dishcloth caught fire on the stove.  
“Dinner.” You moan. He peeks his head around the corner into the smoky kitchen,   
“Smells… good?” He offers, smirking at you, sitting on the floor, against the cabinets, head in your hands. “At least you’re not on the shower floor, so it must not be too bad.”  
You don’t want to look up because you’re afraid you’ll start crying. Damned hormones.   
He kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his,  
“Love, it really is okay. We still have the whole evening, and to ourselves, it seems, to do anything and everything you’d like.”  
“What about dinner, though?” He kisses your hands, “No good restaurants will be available last minute,” he kisses your forehead, “and trust me,” your nose, “you don’t want to eat anything in this kitchen right now.” Finally he kisses your lips, pulling you toward him, and settling you in his lap.  
“Who said anything about eating?” He trails kisses down your neck, “I never mentioned eating,” you sigh as his hands slide up your hips, under your shirt. You hadn’t even had a chance to change so you were still in your ratty pajamas. “I did, however, mention the lovely fact that we have the apartment to ourselves tonight.” He looks into your eyes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, making you giggle. Your stomach growls, betraying you,  
“So, pizza, wine, and scary movies?” He says  
“You’re on.”   
You set to cleaning up the kitchen, and yourself, as Iain orders the pizza, sets up the movie, lining up two more for encores, and opens a bottle of wine, lighting several candles along the way.  
You reemerge from your room in a pair of dark jeans and a form fitting red sweater – one that you happen to know Iain loves on you – with his gift tucked into your pocket.  
Iain offers you glass of wine,   
“Presents first.”   
“Alright, mine first.” He hands you a small box, “I remembered you sayin’ how much you liked this.” He tells you as you pull a small, antique pocket watch from the box.  
“Oh, Iain, it’s beautiful, thank you!” You throw your arms around him. Sitting back, you hand him an envelope.  
“Um, love…” he says cautiously, pulling out the brown and grey greeting card, showing off a picture of a man and a young boy sitting on a pier,  
“Hm?”   
“This isn’t even a Valentine’s card…”  
“It’s not?” you lean forward to look at it. “um… oops? I still put your present inside, so read it.”  
A slip of paper flutters out, he picks it up absently as he reads the Father’s Day greeting. Already utterly confused, he turns the paper around a few times, trying to figure out which side was the top. “Has it really been that long?” you giggle, pointing at a little speech bubble on the paper.  
“’Hi, Dad.’?” He reads. You watch him closely, waiting for the light bulb. “Wait,” there it is. Finally. “Are you?”  
You nod.  
“We’re…?”  
You nod again, your excitement bubbling over.  
“We’re having another baby, baby.”   
Iain yelps out a laugh as he jumps up, hauling you up with him and spinning you around the room, kissing you anywhere he could reach. It takes a while before you are both able to settle down enough to actually watch a movie, but when you do, he keeps his hand on your lower belly the whole time, occasionally commenting on the stupidity of the choices being made in the movie, or explaining why something is highly improbable, and could easily be avoided. He made the thrillers more comedic and considerably less frightening by randomly throwing out possible baby names.   
Just before the stoner gets the ax, “I think Leona if it’s a girl.”  
Right as the ghost shows itself, “Henry if it’s a boy, yeah?”  
You just giggle at look at him,  
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Iain.”  
“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.” He kisses your forehead again and you both fall asleep watching movies, curled into each other on the couch.


End file.
